The Hunger Games: Gales POV and No Peeta!
by JameJame456
Summary: What if Katniss and Peeta went to the games, but they never fell in love? Would she and Gale end up together? You'll have to read to find out!:) I just want to say I changed a few things in the book, and I don't have perfect grammar. This is my first try at writing fan fiction so please give some pointers, but be nice please!:)
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Gale reaches the fence at dusk, eager to escape into his safe haven in the woods. He hesitates before crossing, waiting to hear if the hum signaling electricity coursing through the wire is present. When there is no sign of the sound he bolts to the forest, relief seeping through his veins. He feels silly being so worried the fence was on, it never is. But still, he always gets a twist in his stomach before pausing to hear the tell tell sign that the fence is on, keeping him from his true home and true happiness. But even worse, it would mean keeping him from his best and only friend, his true confidant, Katniss Everdeen.

Katniss is amazing. Well that doesn't explain who she is actually, but there are not strong enough words to describe her. He remembers how when they first met and made their hunting arrangement they both were wary and distrustful of the other. As he heads to their usual meeting place, he keeps his mind occupied by the memory of that first meeting, three years ago.

He had been through a rough day. Well all his days were rough, but this one seemed particularly crummy. As usually every girl had stared at him, wistful eyes constantly on him. But to his surprise that day many came up and spoke to him. They would all end up asking him out to the slag-heap, where he took girls to fool around. When he said no they would pester him until he would snap at them that he wasn't interested. They would run off with hurt expressions on their faces, making him feel guilty and shameful, imagining how his mother Hazelle would have given him disappointed scowls. On top of this, the teachers seemed very eager to pick on him as well. Usually he sat at the back of the classroom, looking longingly out the window just wishing he was out in the forest doing something worth while, not sitting there wasting valuable hunting time. So he would think about various snare traps and how to improve them, or coming up with new ones all together. Today, however, the teachers consistently interrupted his thoughts with their stupid questions about our history, how lucky we were for the capitals generosity, the importance of coal mining, blah, blah, blah. When one of his teachers said they were indebted to the capital for their sacrifice and benevolence in forgiving us for rebellion he felt his control cease.

Disgusted he had snapped, "Yes I'm so grateful that the capital forced my father down into the mines, killed him! I'm so grateful that my family goes to bed every night hungry while the people in the capital have so much food at their disposal they throw it up to eat more! And I'm so grateful to the capital for plaguing my life with fear that one day I'll have to watch my little brother or sister get sent into an arena, to become murders or die themselves!" He hadn't realized that his voice had risen to a shout. He was on his feet taking a couple steps toward his teacher while he jabbed his finger towards her with ever word he said. He had seen the fear in her eyes, that look was so familiar, the look of prey. He saw everyone's mouth ajar with disbelief at his blatant hate towards the capitol. He didn't care. With one last icy stare directed at his teacher, he raced out of the room; going to the only place he could find solace.

He ran to the forest, he felt like it enveloped him in an embrace as he stepped into its dense vegetation. He knew he'd get punished for his outburst, probably a few lashes even, but he couldn't find himself to care. It had felt good lashing out at his teacher like that, letting everyone know that he hated the capital, their abuse. For a moment he rode a high of adrenaline. It soon wore off when the pressures of that day weighted on him and he realized those lashes would be a pain. He decided that he would go check his traps, hoping that the comfort of some fat rabbits around his belt would soothe his growing uneasiness.

He started to dread the future beating he would receive. He found himself hoping he would get Darius or Cray to punish him. He knew they would ease up on the force behind the lashes that would bite his skin, maybe even lessen the sentence. Still it would be painful and it would take weeks to heal. This is how he had found her, his head caught up in the dread of upcoming events.

She stood there intently examining his snare. Stunned and ashamed for his lack of observance of his surroundings he cursed himself, a pack of wild dogs could have caught him off guard, killed him. Then he would be the death of his family as well. They wouldn't survive long with out his constant stream of game and money from trades at the hob. He worked through his self disgust quickly, there were more pressing matters.

He had never seen anyone else in the woods before. Everyone was too scared to leave the "safety" of the fenced community of District 12. Of course, this thinking was ludicrous because it was actually more dangerous in there than out here. But the schools made sure to fill the student's heads with false blather about how mutts live out in the woods and will tare you to pieces once your foot touches the ground outside the fence. Well there was a ring of truth to that, since there were mutts in the woods. But they were easy enough to avoid. Knowing this he commended the girl for her bravery for manning the forest alone.

She was very scrawny, with a long dark braid twisting around her head and going over her right shoulder. She wore an oversized hunting jacket and pants. He almost laughed, she was swimming in them. Warn boots covered her feet. This was all he could ascertain from her since her back was to him. He saw her hand flash to reach for the rabbit; he knew it was time to make himself known.

"You know, stealing is punishable by death?" he almost laughed again. Why would this girl care? Being out here is punishable by death. She jumped and quickly turned around. He could see her surprise; 'She had thought these woods were all hers,' he noticed dryly, well we had both been surprised there.

"I wasn't going to steal it," she replied hastily. "I just wanted to know how you made your snare, mine never catch anything," she spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear her.

He was getting a good look at her now; she was facing him straight on. He recognized her, not surprising though because she probably went to school. But this recognition brought up a feeling of emptiness and sorrow, not towards her but the moment in which he had first seen her. He couldn't quite pin it though, and not liking the feeling that the effort of recollection brought along with it he dropped trying to recall where he had seen her.

He saw the flash of fur at her waist and took in the plump squirrel dangling from her belt. He flushed with annoyance, "If you can't catch anything with your snares than what is there at your hip?" Seriously, did she think him daft?

She bent over and stretched out her hands to something on the ground while she murmured, "I didn't catch it I shot it." She wiped out a nice, sturdy bow and a quiver of arrows.

"Can I see that?" he had asked without even processing the words that crossed his lips. A bow. She has a bow. How can she have a bow? He looked at the weapon in her hand in total and utter shock.

She stretches out her arm towards him, gesturing for him to take it. More shock. He would have never let anyone else get near that bow if it were his. He finds it odd that this young girl would actually trust him with such a rarity.

As he grasps it she adds, "Just remember, stealing is punishable by death."

Before he can stop it he smiles, a genuine smile. He can't remember the last time he actually felt this gesture stretch across his face. He can only remember smiling when his dad was still alive. Another surprise, this stranger girl was full of them. He examined the girl, but more discreetly this time. He realized that she was of the small and slender build, but she wasn't scrawny as he had thought, she was hungry. She didn't tell him this of course, but you'd have to be blind to not see it. Her cheek and collar bones were too prominent, they jutted out too sharply. This made her already large eyes seems abnormally big for her head. She had a straight nose and pale skin. Her lips were full too, except she held them in a scowl. Her eyes were hard and carried a kind of strength that seemed out of place. She could only be 12 or 13, but her eyes said she had seen pain and sorrow and so much of the hardness in life. The eyes were too old for her face. Then he remembered were he had seen her and felt a twinge of sympathy for this stranger girl. She had been part of another family that had lost their father to the mine explosion that had killed so many men, including his father.

I remember now that her mother and young sister both had light hair, just the opposite from her dark locks. I remember her trying to put on a brave face while her sister clung to her leg crying when the mayor presented her with the medal of valor to commemorate her father's sacrifice. I also recall her mother staring dead eyed into the distance, her face devoid of life. I later learned that not only had Katniss lost her father in the explosion, but her mother as well. She had tried to get her mother to return to them but she stayed in a shell never noticing them. Not even caring when her children were on the verge of death from starvation. I don't know if I would have been able to make it if Hazelle had left me also when my father died. I still can't believe the strength she must have had to over come that. To continue on in life when all she loved-

"Hey," I startle at the sound of Katniss's voice, ushering me back to the present. I'd arrived at our meeting place and had been sitting, daydreaming. I turned to her, startled by how good she looked today. The smile she wore was a precious gift; she only wore it around him and her sister Prim. She had grown quite a lot since the day he had caught her with his snares. She had the same dark braided hair that curled around to her shoulder, but it was longer and glossier now. Her eyes were big but not so abnormally. She filled out her body; she no longer had the sharp edges and juts of bone from hunger. She was very beautiful, too beautiful. He hated how the eyes of other boys lingered on her. They often asked if he and Katniss were together, and every time he told them no. Then they would start saying things about her, things they'd like to do, and he'd feel so angry he would see red.

She never noticed of course. Even if she did she wouldn't care. Katniss has seen to much, felt too much of the world's horrors for the immaturity of high school. She does however notice how the girls stair after him, talk and giggle about when they pass. She hates this, just as I hate the way guys speak of her. But we both understand that it is not out of jealousy, we are bonded together out of mutual survival but also something more. We are each other's best friend, but that doesn't quite describe the bond we share either. All I know is that they will be linked for life; a good hunting partner is hard to find.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Katniss might not notice the attention she gets from boys, but I notice the eye I hold for girls. But unlike her, I use it. I have had a lot of girl friends. They are useful, they take my mind of things, but after a while their clingy neediness drives me insane. I haven't lasted with a girl for more than a month or two. I have a special spot where I take my girls, I'm headed there now.

The slag heap looms in front of us while I drown out Savannah's chatter about the school's recent gossip. Gah, I get such a headache from her squeaky voice, constantly blabbering on about useless crap. That's why I enjoy Katniss's company so much; she doesn't feel the need to feel the air with pointless chatter. She appreciates silence, as do I.

At the edge of the slag heap he shuts up his companion by pressing himself up against her body and molding his lips around hers. The pleasant sensation of their tongues intertwining warms his body. He knows he doesn't love this girl; he'll probably dump her in a few days. But I drown this out along with all the sorrows and stresses of my life and just fill my head with electrifying sensations. I only allow myself to feel my mouth on hers, her hands in my hair, her firm but soft buttock in my hands. Soon I feel the need grow, feel the pressure against my pants. I back Savannah up against the slag heap and she sprawls out across it. I know she isn't wearing a bra under her shirt I can see the small two mountains where her nipples press against her tight and thin dress. I know I won't take it to far, my mom made sure I knew that sex was only for the one you truly love. But that doesn't stop me from enjoying Savannah's generosity. I lay atop her and give myself over to sensation. 

The next day Katniss and I do very well. We just finish checking our snares when Katniss hisses for me to get low. I comply at once following her gaze to a buck in the thicket about thirty yards away from us. She silently arms her bow and lets the arrow flying. It hits its target, obviously; Katniss never misses. We hug and pat each others back giving soft hoots of celebration. We're going to make a lot with this kill. It takes time to gut and skin our prize, add lugging up all the meat and then getting a good trade at the hob, by the time we finish our day is done. Pockets full of change and fresh loaves of bread and other delicacies in our game bags, we make our way home.

"What are you and Prim doing tonight?" I ask. They had been walking along silently, very content and reveling in the security of the jangle and weight of coins in their pockets.

"Nothing, she's staying at one of her friend's house," Katniss says. I look at her. She seems to be unbothered by not having her sisters company tonight. I know better. Katniss cares so much about her sister, loves her so much. It's not that she doesn't want her sister to have friends; he knows that, she is actually happy that Prim does. But it doesn't make it any easier for Katniss to go home to an empty house. Her mother is there physically, but she's mainly locked in her room, mentally far away.

Katniss doesn't have friends outside of me that she can be around. I have a couple, none of them are even near to being how close Katniss and I are. But he still doesn't like that she has no one else to share in companionship. He can see in her eyes sometimes that she is miserably lonely, especially when she sees other families, happy and loving. Katniss loves Prim and is happy when ever she is with her. But she doesn't have time to spend with her family, make long lasting memories. Since she has to pick up the heap of responsibilities her mother leaves her with when she clocks out of the world, hunt to keep them from starving, and go to school, she can never get the time to just sit and play with Prim. I know she feels awful about it too. But there's simply nothing she can do about it except try to act like it doesn't bother her. She has that look now, of complete loneliness. It makes my heart hurt.

"Do you want to come to dinner tonight?" I ask. I hope she will, my whole family loves Katniss and I enjoy every moment we spend together.

"Are you sure Hazelle won't mind?"

I roll my eyes, my mother would never mind. She would most likely love it if Katniss came and lived with us. He wouldn't mind either; he'd love it truthfully. But he knows Katniss would mind. She's too independent and proud to let others take care of her. He also knows that it would offend her to even ask. "Katniss, when has my mother ever cared? She already sees you as family. Don't be ridiculous. Anyway if your there I won't have to play dolls with Posy." I smirk at her. She hates that, but can't refuse my little sister's pleas.

She eyes me for a moment to gauge whether I'm fibbing or not, then nods. Her lips stretch into a grin, lighting her face up considerably. "Okay, when do you want me?"

"6:30," I reply, a grin forming on my face as well. I couldn't wait to tell Posy. I hope she gets all her dolls out. I always get a kick out of watching Katniss try to act like a girl.

-

Posy sprints to the door, answering the short and fast two knocks. Ripping it open she lets out a little squeal and dives for Katniss's leg, latching on tightly.

"Katniss!" Posy screams with excitement. Grabbing Katniss's hand and dragging her to the rug in the middle of our grubby living room, "I have my dolls out, let's play house!"

Katniss's smile waivers at the mention of playing this game. Hazelle and I laugh when she looks at us, eyes pleading.

My mother chuckles as she says, "Posy lets eat dinner first, then you and Katniss can play dolls."

I chock back laughter when Katniss's shoulders slump in relief. She walks into my mother's outstretched arms, accepting her hug. "Thank-you," she breaths in her ear.

"Katniss, it's so nice to see you. It has been too long," my mother remarks when they disengage from their embrace.

Katniss gives a happy smile to her than walks over to me, giving me a light punch on the arm.

"Thanks for the help," she glares playfully at me.

Grinning, I use my innocent voice, "What? I know how much you love to play house!" I smirk at her, while she gives me another punch; this one has a little more force behind it.

"Okay kids, dinners ready!" my mother yells. Chuckling we head to the table.

Dinner was great. We talked and ate, laughed and joked. Katniss looked so relaxed; she even gave a couple of her real, hearty laughs that are so rare. As we clean up the kitchen I catch my mother eyeing Katniss as she dries plates and I place them in the cupboard. We had been talking and arguing playfully about who was going to play with Posy and her dolls. I looked at my mother questioningly.

"Why don't you take Katniss with you tonight?" my mother suggests. I had told her that I would be going to the west entrance tonight, were all the students went to party and do naughty teenager stuff. This is a surprise. My mother knows Katniss doesn't enjoy being around the kids in our school. I raise my eyebrows at her, wondering where this came from. Katniss looks completely taken aback by the question.

"I-I don't know, I'm not very good with other people," she stammers out.

"Katniss," my mother says forcefully. "You never have any fun; you need to enjoy your childhood. Your sister is with a friend tonight, I insist you go with Gale and act like you're a teenager for once."

I started my wording carefully, wanting to explain to my mom how going to the party tonight would be the last thing Katniss would ever want to do, "Mom-"

"No Gale!" Hazelle cuts me off, warning me with her eyes not to argue with her about this. "Katniss never does anything for herself. She needs to have a break sometime, take time for herself!"

I glance at Katniss, waiting for back-up. She just stands there, looking frightened. I disguise my blurt of laughter with a cough. Of course she would be scared of people. Sick a pack of wild dogs on her and she's completely calm and composed. But make her hang out with other kids and she's terrified.

She looks to me, stammering over excuses, "I-but-well..."

"Your going Katniss, you need to spend time with people your age, let loose for a little bit." My mother told her sternly, putting on her parent face.

I want to explain to my mother how the only place either of us feels we can relax and truly enjoy ourselves is in the comfort of the woods. I was only going to these parties because there's alcohol, and since I had just dumped Savannah, I needed something to clear my mind. But of course, I couldn't tell her that.

I notice my mom appraising Katniss, twisting her mother in thought. "Come with me, we are going to change you into some decent clothes," my mother says, grabbing Katniss's hand and leading her to a bedroom before either of us could protest. Katniss sends me an alarmed look, begging me with her eyes to save her. There was nothing I can do. When my mother makes up her mind, just like me, there was no disagreeing.

I flop on the couch, feeling sympathy for Katniss as I hear muffled fussing from my mother through the door. I notice I don't really pay attention to Katniss's clothes like I do with other girls. She just doesn't put in the fuss to wear the tight clothes and shaping garments most girls do. I realize that she wears the same thing almost everyday. Her baggy dark green cargo pants, a loose black shirt, long sleeved or short-sleeved depending on the weather, her hair in a loose braid, and the same worn boots with patched holes. She never wears makeup. She still looks great, though. I wonder how much girls in my school try to be more appealing while Katniss doesn't even try. The other girls worry so much about their appearance, but when Katniss walks into a room she captures people's attention without effort or notice. I know why, she's a very beautiful girl. But it's more than that. The way she holds herself so confidently, how she walks so silently but gracefully, how when her gray, silver eyes meet yours they pierce you, she takes breath away. This doesn't matter to me though; I am drawn to her because of her strength and raw determination. It makes a great friend and ally.

The door that imprisoned Katniss to my mother's hands swings open. Hazelle comes out smiling proudly, calls everyone to the living room and steps aside to display her handy work. My brothers gasp, Posy gives a squeak of delight, I can't help the hiss of air I intake sharply.

I hardly recognize my Katniss, she has transformed into something other worldly, a goddess. My mother had just been with her for about five minutes, but even the least bit of effort to Katniss's appearance makes her even more breathtaking. They hadn't done much, changed her clothes for snug dark blue jeans and a light blue low, but not too low, cut blouse and some navy colored flats. Her hair was free of its braid, falling in loose curls past her shoulders with a braid pulling back the front bit of her hair to keep it out of her face. My mother must have put something in it because it held an appealing gloss. And her face. Wow. My mother had added a dark pink gloss to her lips and her lashes seemed darker and longer making her eyes scorch and penetrate your gaze.

I'd never seen anything so beautiful. I felt myself flushing, searching my mind for a thing to say. But I was met with just awe, all thoughts on this beauty before me. I started having odd thoughts; I say fantasies of my hands running over her curves, tracing her lips. Raising my eyes to her face I see her gaze directed at Hazelle. Her irritated, annoyed, and pleasured emotion focused on my mother for her effort and huge display, brought sense back into my mind.

Clearing my throat I say, "Well Catnip," using her nickname to ease my mind, "you took long enough." Standing up, blocking out the puzzling thoughts that invade my mind, I smile, "Well let's get going. See you mom!" I shout as we make our way out the door.

We round a corner making our way toward the west entrance when she lifts her arms to her head. I notice the band she has in her hand, and realize she plans to pull her hair back, probably feeling safe now that my house and mother are out of view.

I grab her hand, "No you don't. I will not risk the chance of getting in trouble with my mother for letting you ruin her hard work." I reach for the band around her fingers.

She looks at me for a moment fury pulsing in her distracting eyes. "Give me that!" Her voice shouts. We grapple with the band for a moment. She gives it a hard tug and it snaps. "Ugh, I can't believe you!" her huge eyes glare at me before she takes off down the street, walking oddly.

I feel bad; I know how much she hates having her hair in the way. She had almost cut it off once but I had convinced her not to. But for some reason I didn't want her to pull up the glossy curtains of hair that flowed down her back.

"I'm sorry, but my mom would kill me if she knew that I had let you ruin her master piece. Anyway it looks nice," I try to apologize.

"I don't care," she growls but slows down allowing me to catch up with her. I grin, we never stay angry at each other for long, in a minute or two I will be forgiven.

We walk in silence, her long strides still odd. She keeps glancing at her feet, letting out sighs of dissatisfaction. I don't say anything not wanting to disrupt her anger; I start to get worried though when her steps get shakier. I'm about to ask if she's alright, when Katniss throws up her arms in exasperation and stops to look at her feet, "Gah, these shoes are horrible! They are pinching my feet! And these pants! I feel like every step I take will make them rip open! And this crap on my eyelashes is heavy! Why do people even bother with this stuff?"

Chuckling I remark, "To look pretty."

"Well it's ridiculous!" We continue on to our destination her mumbled complaints the only sound between us. We reach a fork in the road. I head left toward the west entrance, while she veers right. I grab her arm and pull her back towards me.

"Where do you think your going? The west entrance is this way," I look at her confused. Katniss always knows her surroundings, where she's going.

She looks at me, irritated, than jerks her arm out of my hand. "What, you actually thought I was going to go and make friends with all your buddies? I'm going home," she turns back toward the right fork. "Have a nice night," she says over her shoulder sarcastically. I know she's not mad at me, just snappy because she's uncomfortable with these types of things, plus the clothes she's in aren't exactly comfortable either.

"Katniss please," I jog over to her. "I would really like it if you came with me," I look her in the eyes, straight on. She has her hips slightly sticking out with her hands lying loosely on them. It's very distracting. I put on a pleading face, hoping she actually will join me tonight. I don't want her to leave me yet.

She looks at me, measuring the truth of my words. Her eyes soften a bit, "Fine," she huffs. "Let's get this over with."

Smiling I throw my arm around her shoulder, "That's the spirit Catnip." She glances up at me and smiles smugly. All the sudden I feel the urge to slide my arms around her waist and press her up against me. Her eyes catch some light and glitter. An internal battle takes place, one side of me wanting to wrap her in my arms, another half knowing that for some reason this would change their relationship dramatically. I give her shoulder a small squeeze releasing my hold on her; to scared to know what would happen if I was to embrace her.

We make our way back toward the west entrance, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. I puzzle over why I feel this way. Why do I suddenly want to touch my Catnip? Why do I feel the urge to run my hand across her cheek? Why do I want to feel the sensation of pressing her body to mine? I start to get a little queasy as I flush from the thought. I shouldn't be feeling this way, Katniss is my best friend. We don't do that with each other. We aren't romantic, ever. These thoughts plague my mind as we walk up to a group of about twenty surrounding a fire.

I hear Katniss's breath quicken as she takes in her surroundings. "Gale," she chokes out as she grabs my arm to stop me at the edge of group. We aren't lit by the fire, so no one notices our presence. "I do-I don't know if I can do this," she says completely distraught. She glances toward our classmates, "I think I'm going to just go home." She turns about to bolt, when I take her hand.

"Come over here," I whisper, leading her over behind a tree. Once we reach the spot, I put both my hands on her shoulders and bend so I'm eye-level with her. "Catnip you are over reacting. You can do this," I gaze into her eyes a moment longer willing her to hear the truth in my words. Her eyes are huge, the sliver in them mesmerizing me. Then I drop my hands and smirk at her, "And I'll be there. If you can't take all your admirers, just come to me and I'll protect you." I find it astonishing that she can be so calm when she's being chased up a tree by a bear, but when she's faced with other human beings she gets so anxious.

Shaking my head I take her hand, which is slightly clammy from nerves, and guide Katniss out into the group, disengaging our grasp when we come into view. The first person who sees us is Jared, he gives me a knowing smile and then glances to see who my companion is.

His jaw literally drops. I glance over at Katniss to see if she's noticed but she has her eyes glued to the fire, being careful not to make eye-contact with anyone. She is absolutely gorgeous, of course, but I find myself wishing my mom hadn't tried to play up Katniss's beauty. I hate the look Jared has and feel my hand twitch to deck him. I look to him again and see his mouth is still agape, his eyes scouring her body. I look to others in our small get together, seeing if our arrival has been noticed. I see the same reaction on all their faces, even the girls. They stand their like idiots just gazing dreamily, or in the girls' case, nastily at Katniss. Everyone has broken off their conversation to just take her in.

I clear my throat and step a little closer to her. Hoping they get the hint to get a hold of themselves. They all glance at me. I some how get it across that they all need to behave, because they get back to their conversations that had been interrupted by Katniss's arrival. A lot of them have to shake their heads to clear their minds before continuing. "Want to come with me for a bit?" I look down at her and see she's still watching the fire, oblivious to all the attention she just got.

She looks at me and I see her tense shoulders loosen a bit. She swallows and shakes her head indicating she did want to join me. We head over to a group of five people near the fire. Jared's in this group, along with my other friend Chris, and three girls, including my ex Savannah. I know she chose to interact with them because she knew that I would head to my friends first. Great it's going to take a while to get her off my back.

People still watch Katniss, but they do so discreetly. It still bothers me, I feel like hiding her behind me to block there gazes, but it's better than the blatant gawking they had done when we first arrived.

"Hey guys, how's it going," I greet them.

"Hey bro!" Chris welcomes.

"What's up man," Jared says.

"You all know Katniss," I say, reluctantly directing their attention to her. I glance at her by my side. She has her arm at her side with her other hand gripping her elbow, her head low looking at the ground. She glares up at me when she hears me introduce her. I might have laughed if I wasn't so tense from the looks the others have been shooting her way.

"Yeah, I know her," Chris replies. I feel a flash of anger at how he says this.

"Hello Katniss," Jared says after him, a little too formally. Probably trying to keep his tone neutral, not wanting another reprimand from me. She lifts her head at the greetings, the fire glows on her skin invitingly, her eyes seem to glow. She looks to my friends and gives them a short nod as a greeting. I glimpse at them in time to see their eyes widen as they take the full effect of her face, her eyes.

Wanting to dig my fingers in their eyes sockets, I ask, "So where's the booze Chris?" trying to hide the venom in my voice

Chris's eyes linger on Katniss a second longer, who's gaze is back on the ground, and flits his eyes back to me. "Sorry man, couldn't get any tonight."

Dang, this whole trip was a waste. I had just wanted the alcohol to dull my mind, let me act crazy and reckless. Instead I've just roiled myself up more by bringing Katniss here to be looked at like a piece of meat. I'm about to tell them that we will be leaving when Jared intercedes, "So Gale, did you hear about Haymitch getting beat by the peacekeepers?"

Annoyed that I have to answer I turn and say, "Nope." Before I can say, 'And I don't care,' Jared launches into the story.

Great we're stuck here

Katniss lingers by us for a bit, before she heads over to the fire and sits in one of the empty chairs surrounding it. She brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her shins. She kicks her shoes off and points her feet near the fire, heating her toes. She looks more at ease there than since we've arrived. I decide she wouldn't want me to leave my friends to join her, even though I'd very much like too. She'd think I was just trying to accommodate her, make her feel calmer. She'd hate it. So I just watch her not even paying attention to the argument erupting around me.

She just sits there watching looking up at the stars. Slowly she closes her eyes, her face no longer taut with unease. She looks so angelic. I can't tare my eyes away. But I do because in my peripheral vision I see Chad, heading toward her. His eyes full of want and yearning.

I'm rocked with fury, frozen to the spot as he makes his way to her side. He tiptoes to her not wanting to be noticed. Katniss still has her eyes closed, usually she would have noticed him by now but the crackling of the fire probably drowns out the sound.

He squats down at her side and says something, but I'm to far away to hear. Katniss jumps, her chair swaying off balance about to tip over. Chad reaches up to steady it, and keeps his hand on the arm rest as he gives a short laugh. Katniss is looking at him, bewildered. I want to run over there, tackle him, and grind his face in the dirt. But my rage keeps me in place, like my feet have been bolted to the ground. Chad continues talking to her, while she looks at him, aghast. The members of my group finally take notice of the hate radiating off my body. They glance in the direction of my stare, and take in what I see.

Chris chuckles and says, "Way to go man." He glances back at me, "Got to have some guts to talk to that girl." I would punch him if all my attention hadn't been focused on the exchange in front of me.

"Uh, hey man?" Jared wonders hesitantly.

I see Chad's intent; he raises his hand to place it on her arm. This drives me over the edge, I take a step to sprint over there and break every bone in his out stretched fingers. But Jared, seeing my intent, shouts, "Okay everyone lets play Spin the Bottle!" Hoots and hollers of excitement respond.

Chad's hand freezes in the air as he takes this in. Katniss looks to find me, our gazes meet and her eyes communicate her horror at the mention of such a game. I get a glimpse of Chad, a smile forms on his face as he understands the meaning this game brings. He looks to Katniss expectantly. She must see this too, because she vaults out of her seat and races towards me. She's at my side instantly; I bring my arm around her shoulder and press her to my side. I bring my face down close to hers.

"Are you alright?" my voice is shaky when I ask. My rage hasn't warn off.

She looks up at me eyes huge with panic, "Gale I can't kiss someone. I-I-I don't-I can't," her voice quivers.

I tighten my arm around her shoulder at the thought of anyone getting that close to her. "Relax, we aren't going to stay any longer," I reassure her. Usually I would get hyped up for something like this, but I can only feel dread when I think about someone else touching her in anyway. I turn to inform everyone that we're leaving.

"We aren-" I cut off my sentence when I realize that everyone has observed our exchange. Great, I already have to convince them almost everyday that we aren't together, now it will probably be every hour. "We aren't staying," I finish firmly.

I hadn't noticed that Savannah had made her way over to me. She shimmies up against my hip and runs her hand down my chest and stomach. "Gale, come on, you know you want to stay." Her hand glides to the top of my pants; I catch it before it can reach its destination. She smiles at me suggestively, rubbing her breasts against my arm, and whispers in my ear, "Stay here, after we can pay a visit to your slag-heap." I look down at her, she holds my gaze while she snakes her hand around my back and presses herself up against me. I push her away, and look to Katniss. She looks stunned by this public display. I reach to take her away from here, away from all these infuriating people.

"Dude come one, what's your problem today? You always stay for our little games," Chris shouts. I know I'm doomed when Katniss shoots me a heated look. I know we will stay now; she hates it when anyone goes out of their way to help her. Now that she realizes that "I always stay for the little games" she won't let me leave on account of her. She won't let me think she is weak or scared about this.

I do want to leave because of her, but not for what she thinks. I won't be able to control myself if she has to... I can't even say it. The thought of it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Katniss, who's still looking into my eyes, says,"No we're staying, Gale just thought I wanted to go home." She gives him another pointed look and then heads back toward the campfire were everyone has circled a small piece of plywood with an empty glass beer bottle atop it. When she reaches an empty spot between Rick and George she settles to the ground, waiting for the game to start. They look at each other raise their eyebrows to one another and smile wickedly. They sit next to her and scoot closer. I'm blinded with fury as I quickly intercept George's path and seat myself next to Katniss. I still feel her irritation at me but I don't care.

"Katniss, I really don't-" I begin in her ear.

"No," she snaps, "we're staying." Her beautiful face is decided, her scorching eyes twinkling, daring me to challenge her. I look into her eyes, pleading with her to not do this. The game has already started; Jared reaches out to spin the bottle. I just need to get her to leave, show her it's not because of her I want to. I stare into her eyes begging her to reconsider. It's no use; she turns away from me watching the bottle spin on the plywood, starting to slow as it reaches its first target. It slows to its last turn, I feel Katniss stiffen when it passes her and I. I hold my breath, just go a little further do not stop on her! The stress releases when the bottle stops, pointing at Kendra, a year lower in school than I.

Jared flashes her a smile, as she rises to make her way to him. Everyone gives hoots of anticipation. I look to Katniss. Her eyes are wide in unbelief as Kendra confidently sits atop Jared's lap and wraps her legs around his waist. Kendra runs her fingers through his hair, grabs it and then opens her mouth to his. Katniss tares away her eyes and looks to the ground, a blush covering her cheeks. Wow that looks amazing. I almost laugh because she is so embarrassed by this. Her innocence is so refreshing. I catch a quick glimpse of Jared reaching his hands up Kendra's shirt. I look to Katniss again seeing how she's taking this movement, but she still has her eyes glued to the ground, that gorgeous blush heating her cheeks.

"Okay!" George yells, indicating that the allotted time has been met. Kendra moves to disengage from Jared, but he grasps her hips, pushes them down, grinds himself against her, and gives her lips one more peck before releasing her. Everyone is chuckling as Kendra makes her way back to her seat. I see Katniss staring at Jared eyes wide with surprise. I touch her elbow to get her attention, wanting to know what she's thinking. Her eyes meet mine astonishment is written all over her face. But there's something else in her eyes and I take in a shaky breath when I see a flame of want in them.

My breath catches when I register this. I glance at her lips, so full and inviting. It feels like I'm being pushed towards them, like they are calling to me and I can't help but answer. Her eyes are smoldering, catching the light and reflecting it back. She licks her lips as I look down at her.

"Okay Chris, your turn!" Savannah interrupts. Her voice breaks the hold we have on each other and I'm brought back to reality. What are you doing? You and Katniss do not do that sort of thing! I risk a quick look at her and see she's in the same state I'm in. Her mouth is twisted in confusion eyes lost in thought as she looks at the bottle spin over the plywood. That's how we spend the next couple of rounds, lost in contemplation of what that shared moment between us was. The only things that brings my focus back to the game is when I hear Chad's victorious shout of "Yes!" as the tip of the beer bottle points to Katniss.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Wait, what? My brain struggles to find answers to the puzzlement of what this means. The bottle is pointing at Katniss but my mind searches to make a connection. Then it clicks. Oh yeah, we are playing Spin the Bottle, Chad the douche is up, he spun and it pointed to my Katniss. Wait, my Katniss? My thoughts finally make sense and I realize what this means. I inhale sharply and look to Katniss. Her calm and composed facade has broken; she is looking at Chad with a face of utter shock and revulsion. I can see the fight within her, not wanting to look frightened, weak, but also not wanting to get anywhere near Chad.

"Well sweetheart, you coming over here or what?" I see his taunt harden her eyes, that grim determination taking the place of fear. She uncrosses her legs and stands up shakily. The wobble of her knees, breaks my stunned thoughts.

"No," I spit. "You aren't going to touch her!" I can hear the deadly tone of my voice. I won't let him touch her; I'll die before that happens. And in that moment it's true. I'd rather take one hundred lashes than see someone else get near her. I'd rather have my arm broke, my wrist snapped than see someone else caress her, touch her lips. I'm trembling; I taste the anger on my tongue. They are all looking at me, taken aback by my murderous tone. I don't care; none of them will get near my Katniss.

"It's the rules! I get to kiss her!" Chad shouts back. I can see the desperation in his eyes. He wants to touch her terribly, my Katniss. Never.

I step up to him, "I don't care about the damned rules! You aren't getting near her!" I need to get out of here; the rage flowing through my body is too much. Soon I will snap. I feel a hand grip my arm. I turn my stare to see Katniss looking up at me. "Katniss I know you don't want me to-" I begin harshly.

"Gale calm down. Go sit down. I'll kiss him," she says evenly, without hesitation.

"What-But-I," I sputter. I see the decidedness in her gaze. I lower my eyes to the ground and whisper, "I can't let you do that."

She lifts my chin, "You don't need to protect me Gale. I can take care of myself." She says this matter-of-factly, no trace of anger over my protectiveness. "Now go cool off." I look deeper into her eyes. She doesn't show any hesitation.

I can't do it; I can't let him take advantage of her like this. But Katniss has made up her mind. Sick I look at the ground again.

"Okay," I sigh. "But," I look to Chad, a nasty smile on his lips, "you will only kiss her, a quick, short kiss." I want to rip the gloating smile off his face.

"What? No, that's not the rules!" Chad exclaims. "I get thirty seconds." He looks around to the others, trying to get some support. Nobody says anything. The girls are probably too scared to raise their voice and the guys, well he already knows that they feel jealousy. They don't want anyone else touching Katniss but themselves. "Guys!" Chad pleas. "Back-me up here!" he calls as his eyes sweep the ring of people around us. Seeing he isn't getting any support he slouches in defeat, "Fine," he puffs.

I grab the front of his shirt, I feel Katniss put a restraining hand on my shoulder, "Be careful or I'll ring your neck." I don't break my stare, letting the truth of my words seep in. I see real fear shoot in his eyes. Then I let Katniss pull me away from him. I turn to go sit down, when Katniss pulls my ear to her lips.

"Thank-you," she whispers. I'm soothed a little knowing that I took away some of her anxiety. I give her wrist a soft squeeze and go over to my seat on the ground, still fuming. I can feel everyone's stare on me, I meet Jared's gaze, and he raises an eyebrow at me questioningly. I shake my head at him, and our attention is returned to Katniss, standing with Chad in the middle of the circle.

She speaks, "Like Gale said, you will kiss me quickly and shortly, you will not touch me." Her voice is confident, unwavering. She looks at him evenly, unflinching. Anyone who saw her would see a graceful, fearless woman. I was the only one who could see the distressed, small twitch of her right index finger. "Do you understand?" She asks him firmly, demanding a response.

"Yeah-yeah, I understand. Now quite talking and kiss me," Chad demands. It takes every ounce of my strength to not catapult myself at him. I see Katniss's wrist twitch. I know this mannerism to not indicate anxiety, but the urge to hit something, hopefully Chad's face.

Without another word she leans forward, shutting her eyes and puckering her lips. Chad has a triumphant grin as he follows suit. I want to look away, but can't. It's like I'm stuck in a horrible nightmare. My eyes are locked on their approaching lips, almost touching. I never notice Chad's hand reaching up, his fingers spreading wide. Their lips touch and his hand clasps onto her breast and squeezes.

I let out a bellow of pure madness. I only have one frenzied thought in my mind. 'He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.' I want to pummel his face in, make him regret having taken advantage of her. But I'm to slow. I've only gotten to my feet when Katniss's eyes flare with violence. Grabbing one his splayed hand on her breast, she yanks it away. I stop seeing the look on her face, a look of complete vehemence. With a quick twist of her hand, Chad's wrist snaps.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Chad's scream fills my eardrums. He falls to his knees cradling his wrist against his chest. Gasps and startled cries slip from people's lips. I can't find it in me, though, to feel bad. He's a sorry excuse for a human being. I think he needs to get his other wrist broken too. Katniss watches him fall, eyes full of hate.

"You crazy b***h!" Chad screeches. "You broke my hand!" His eyes are watering, throat thick with pain.

"Your wrist actually" Katniss says easily. "I warned you, I told you what I expected and you said you understood. But you decided to take advantage, to try to use my fear and weakness against me," she remarked steadily. "You got what you deserved," she adds. Here words are smooth and unyielding. But her eyes say otherwise. I can see her unhappiness for having reacted as she did. I sent a fleeting glance around the circle. Everyone's eyes are riveted to Katniss, some eyes crazed with fear, while other's in genuine awe.

Katniss turns to me, looking at me for help. I stride forward, take her hand, and head straight to the fence a hundred yards away. We quickly escape through it and disappeared into the forest, with their astonished gazes watching our retreat.

-

We had been lying in the quiet for a few hours. After the situation at the party we came straight here, to one of our favorite spots. It was a patch of trees with a gap in the overlapping tree branches allowing access to the star studded sky, and the ground was covered in a soft squishy moss. We lay back right below the opening staring up at the stars, my left arm touching her right from wrist to shoulder. I was still furious, but I didn't want to annihilate Chad anymore. I did want to beat the crud out of him, though.

For the first forty-five minutes we had sat there, I bristled about the events that had just occurred. All I could see was his hand groping her. Every time I replayed him squeezing her breast in my mind, I had to grab onto Katniss's hand tightly, use her as an anchor to keep me from hunting him down and strangling him. For the rest of the time I occupied my thoughts with the way Chad's wrist had snapped. It seems to satisfy my temper the most. I kept seeing Chad's face, screwed up in agony. Good, he won't ever try to touch her again.

"I can't believe I did that," Katniss whispers, her voice hardly discernible. Her face looks haunted as I turn to my side facing her. She's looking up at the sky like I had been. I can't find the words to comfort her, I'm too tongued tied by her breath-taking beauty. She slowly turns her head to the side, meeting my gaze. "I just keep hearing the sound of it breaking," she mumbles. I could see her searching my eyes, waiting for reassurance, something to relieve her remorse.

I clasp her forearm and give it a gentle, sympathetic squeeze, "He deserves what happened. Like you said her tried to take advantage of you, you had to protect yourself." I look deeply into her eyes, willing her to not feel so guilty. Our faces are so close; I can see every detail of her complexion. I lie on my side facing her, while she tilts her face my way. Her eyes hold mine, shame welling up in them. I could see her self-disgust for acting so impulsively. Not speaking we stare at each other, she looking for relief and I trying to give it.

I unexpectedly remember the lust in her eyes that had focused on me after seeing Chris and Kendra earlier at the west entrance. How she had glanced at my lips, and then licked her own. I look down on her lips now, my body pulsing with heat. She takes in a quiet, ragged gasp; I hadn't realized she was holding her breath. Our eyes met again, hers sparkling with want. I don't question the urge to touch her anymore; all I can see is her lips. Her eyes hold mine flooded with expectation, I plan to accommodate. I start to tilt my lips to hers, her eyes flutter closed.

The sound of twigs snapping breaks our concentration. Katniss is already on her feet, dragging me up with her. Her face is darting around, searching for a threat. On my feat, still distracted by my chaotic thoughts, I hear a growl. I whip my head to the left, looking for the source of the sound. I see sets of glowing eyes as Katniss grabs my hand, sprinting for the nearest tree.

I grab her hips hoisting her up onto the first branch as the first dog materializes through the brush. They will be on us in seconds. I clutch Katniss's reaching hand, and she gives a small grunt as she pulls me onto branch she is perched on. The barks and growls below us draw our gaze. The sight of ten wild dogs pushes us up the tree. We scramble up the branches, going much farther than needed, but fear pressing us up. We rest on a branch about thirty feet off the ground, breathing hard from exertion and panic. We look at each other eyes, huge from what could have just happened.

We look down at the predators below us. They circle the trunk of our safe refuge. Jumping and snapping there teeth together, they growl ferociously, eyes alight with ravenous hunger. We try to slow our breathing taking purposefully slow inhales and exhales. We remain like this for what seems like hours, trying to slow our racing hearts as the mutts below us stare up trying to find a way to reach their prey and howling when they can't.

Katniss reaches out and holds my hand. I look up at her. Her fear has been replaced with realization. "We could have died," she states plainly. Her voice is steady but her eyes show comprehension. "We could have died," she repeats, almost dazedly. Her stare bores into mine. I have never seen her so shaken. Tonight has been too much.

I do the only thing I can think of to ease her; I pull her to me and wrap her in an embrace. Her arms circle around my back without hesitation, securing her to me as she buries her face in my chest. I feel a dampness spreading on my shirt, and pull away slightly to look at her face. She moves to look at me and streams of silent tears run down her face. I feel my heart constrict. Her cheeks and lips are red, the gloss from earlier completely gone. Her stare wide and her dark eyelashes sparkle with drops of tears. I had never seen her cry, she had always been so strong, so unyielding. Seeing her so frightened, demolishes my heart.

I pull her to my chest again, no longer fearful of the spectacle below us. All that matters is making her feel better, taking away her tears, making her safe again. "Its okay, it's okay..." I mumble again and again into her hair, holding her as tightly to me as I can. I hold tighter, trying to squeeze the hurt out of her, replacing it with safety and love. Love?

A fit of shivers racks Katniss's body, interrupting my thoughts. "Shhhh, Shhh," I whisper, soothing her. I look down to see the wild dogs have gone, they must have given up. "See they're gone, they're gone. We're safe," I tell her. But she doesn't let go of me, she just holds on to me, like I'm her life line. We stay like this, in a warm embrace, for what seems like hours. I don't care, I never want to let go. As the sky begins to lighten, Katniss slowly retracts from my hold, giving little sniffles as she wipes her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she begins. Her face is burning with shame at her show of weakness.

I don't care that she cried. I feel like it's brought us closer, her sharing with me her hurt. I know who she is; I see her strength even now, in her swollen red eyes. "Katniss, I know how strong you are. You've gone through a lot tonight, any one else would have fallen apart hours ago. Don't worry about hiding your feelings from me. You are my best-friend and the bravest person I know, no matter how much you cry."

After my short deceleration, Katniss looks up at me again, eyes shiny with tears again, but tears of gratitude. She gives me a small smile than clears her throat. "Should we get down?" she glances below at where the dogs had left us as she asks.

"Yeah, lets get home," I answer, and we start to make our way down the tree.

When our feet are firmly on the ground again she looks to me, and confesses, "I can't go back yet. Can we stay a little longer?"

I know she doesn't mean here in this spot, just in the woods, our woods. I'm not concerned about my mother worrying why I haven't returned. Katniss and I have spent many nights in the woods.

Still reeling from the cascade of emotion that had enveloped me in the tree I consent, "Of course Catnip." She relaxes a bit at my mention of her nickname. "What do you want to do?" I ask her keeping my voice light. We are both done with the heavy seriousness that had accompanied us all night. When I see her searching for what to do I decide to give her some suggestions. "We could go hunting, or go check the snares. We could pick some stuff, or maybe even explore a little."

I'm about to continue, but when I see her eyes focus, I know she's made her decision. She looks at me with eyes that reflect trust, "I want to show you something. But it will take a while to reach, so if you need to go home for anything we can just go hunt and wait for another day."

Truly intrigued I say without hesitation, "Nope! Let's go!"

She leads us north. This surprises me, we always head to the east, that's were all the good game is. Maybe she's found a good patch of berries, I wonder. We share every bit of information about sources of food in the forest though, so I shake that thought. She would have told me by now if that were the case. Katniss leads us deeper into the vegetation, farther away from the fence. I've never been this far out in this general direction.

I'm absorbed in speculation when Katniss peers over her shoulder. Sensing my calculation of what could possibly be up ahead, she gives me a look of amusement. She knows me so well. "Almost there," she assures me.

We continue on for about ten minutes when we reach a pristine pond. It's very appealing; with calm water that reflects the sky like glass. Rocks sit on one side of the pond giving a great background for the bright pink and white lilies resting atop their green pads floating in the water. Soft, green grass with a dotting of small purple and yellow flowers occupies the opposite bank. A little stream trickles in, producing an almost melodic sound. It's a breath-taking view. Wondering why Katniss kept this place from me, I look to her.

She is looking out at the pond somberly. Feeling my eyes on her she turns to me, and must recognize the question in my gaze. "This was my father and mine's favorite spot," she explains.

I look to the pond again, this confession making the pond even more beautiful and special. "Come on," Katniss invites as she heads over to the formation of rocks. I follow her, and mimic her motion as I take off my shoes and socks roll up my pant legs and sit atop a boulder next to her with my feet submerged in water. Looking at this pond I realize that Katniss has to care for me very much to confide in me with such a meaningful piece of her past.

Comprehending the trust she has in me, I appraise her tenderly. She has her palms pressed behind her supporting her upper body. Her head falls back; her face towards the sun that now hangs in the sky, absorbing its warm rays. Her lips curve up slightly, happily. She looks so content to be here by my side, so beautiful. I feel the need to reach out and brush her cheek; feel her velvety skin under my fingers. I turn away, what is wrong with me? Why do I feel so drawn to her all of the sudden? I need to stop. But I can't, I can't stop looking at this girl next to me. I search myself looking for a source behind these confusing thoughts. I look to her again, her hair has loosened and a few strands blow across her face, brushing her skin lightly in the soft breeze.

The sight of this brings the walls crashing down. The answer is there, it has always been there. I had just hid from it, built up defenses, shut doors to keep the truth at bay. There was no more holding it back, no more denying the true and inescapable fact. It rings in my ears, filling my veins with warm emotion, but also with uneasy recognition.

I love her. I love Katniss Everdeen. 


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Months Later

I woke with a jolt, heart racing. Sheets soaked with my sweat entangle my legs. Ripping the covers off I bolt to the bathroom and lean over the sink. I suck in uneven breaths, my heart beat throbbing in my ears. 'Just a dream, just a dream.' I take a hand full of water out of the pail in the corner of the counter, and splash my face. The cold, crisp water helping to relax my body that is tensed, ready for a fight.

I lean against the wall and slowly sink to the ground resting my elbows on my knees and bending my head forward. I sit like this until my muscles aren't so tightly coiled. I let out a huff of breath and bang my head back against the wall.

I should be used to the dream by know, I'd had it every year, on this day like clock work. It was a simple dream, it showed one of my siblings or Katniss running through a forest, snapping there head left to right looking for a threat of danger. But it wasn't so much of the image but of the situation. Each time I knew they were running for their life, being chased by someone or something. They just kept running, crashing through the forest. I would trash in my bed, trying to get to them, trying to call out to them to come to me and let me protect them. But they would keep sprinting on, fear driving them forward.

The only release from the dream was when a spear impaled their chest. They'd fall to the ground, eyes finally meeting mine. A look of betrayal and abandonment would blaze at me until the light left their eyes and they fell to the ground, dead.

I had just watched Posy die. I'd watched the life leave her body as I held her, begged her to fight, to stay with me. 'It's not real, Posy's in her room.' I assure myself, but I still make my way quietly to her room.

She's there, sound asleep on her bed. I go to the side of her bed and brush the hair back that covers her face. I stand there for a moment letting the knowledge that she's still with me, alive and safe, sweep through me.

It helps to be looking at her, but I know there's still a chance, still a way that that dream will become a reality. Today is reaping day after all. I feel the panic start to flow in again. I rush out the door heading to the woods, deciding to start the day early. Hoping the woods familiarity will help me neutralize my crazed emotions.

The 74th annual Hunger Games start today. Where two children a boy and girl, ages 12-18, from each district, will be picked to play in an arena to fight to the death or be killed themselves. The people of the capitol will watch the festivities with vicious enjoyment, loving the thrill of it, the violence. It's disgusting, inhumane. Not surprising because the people of the capitol are inhuman already. They altered their bodies to unrecognizable shapes and shades. It was considered attractive to them, but to all the other districts they just looked barbaric and frightening.

I make my way through the forest and reach the hollow log where Katniss and I store our bows. I reach in and grab the bigger bow and quiver of arrows. I want to get a few squirrels to trade the baker and get some bread for Katniss and I.

I ghost my way through the vegetation, not making a sound. It only takes about a half hour to get a couple squirrels, but I decide I better cut it off there and head to the bakery. I don't want to take to long and cause Katniss to wait up for me. Not worried about scaring off game any longer, I jog to the main street in District 12 were most of the businesses are, including the bakery.

As I approach the entrance I glance over to the Justice Building were all of District 12 will be gathered later today, to observe the reaping. They have already stared setting up the stage. Many people clean the building, trying to scrub away the many layers of coal dust that have accumulated on its stone surface over the past year.

I eye the cakes in the window of the bakery as I open the door. It gives a jangle, indicating to the person in the back a customer has entered. The cakes are expertly frosted; designs flourish across the multicolored tiers. Katniss always brings Prim here to admire them. She always tells me that its one of the few beautiful things in District 12, and she can't deny Prim the sight. I agree with her there.

Sweet and savory smells assault my senses as the door shuts behind me. My mouth waters involuntarily at the scents of freshly baked bread and pastries. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath through my nose, letting the delicious aroma invade my mind. I hear a clang, probably a batch of rolls from the oven, and footsteps making their way to the front of the store.

I continue my approach to the front counter. A boy rounds the corner and greats me, "Morning', how can I help you?" I recognize him; he's in Katniss's grade, Peter? Paul? I can't remember.

"Can you go grab your dad?" I ask not mentioning the squirrels that are hidden below the counter. The baker doesn't like his family to know he trades with Katniss and me, especially his wife. She's a really unpleasant lady.

"Sure," the boy remarks. He turns and yells, "Pop, someone's here to see you!" He gives me a friendly smile. "See ya," he says and then makes his way to the back of the shop.

The baker appears with flower all the way up to his elbow and some streaks of it across his face. Recognizing his usually trading partner he gestures for me to follow him. He leads me down the hallway to the back door of the shop. He grabs a loaf of fluffy bread and turns to me.

"Here you go boy," he says pleasantly, handing over the loaf. "I'll take those squirrels you got there."

I hand him the two small animals, knowing it is a bad trade but taking his generous offer without question. Everyone gives us good deals today, their sympathy getting the best of them.

"Thank-you sir," I tell him as he hands me the loaf of bread, its heat warming my hand. I open the door with my other hand. "Have a good day," I say, without any real feeling behind it. I know he won't have a good day today. He'll be worried sick about his sons being reaped.

As I hustle away to make it to Katniss and mine's meeting spot before she does, I hear the baker's parting words softly in my ear, "Good luck."

-

"Hey!" Katniss calls from across the small field I had been sitting in. I catch my breath as I see her, gosh she's gorgeous.

I quickly impale the loaf in my hand, hoping to get a laugh from her. Lifting it up by the end of the arrow I grin at her when she reaches me, "Look what I shot."

She lets out a loud laugh, the sound warming my blood and filling me with a pride of having been the one to cause it. She plops down beside me and clutches the loaf, breaking it open and sticking her nose between the two halves. She inhales deeply and a groan escapes her lips.

"Ah it's still warm," she sighs. "This must have cost you a small fortune," she looks at me, not sure she should accept such a delicacy as freshly baked bread.

"Just two squirrels," I tell her. "I think the baker was feeling sympathetic," I add.

"Well we all feel a bit closer today don't we," she responds sarcastically. "Oh, Prim left us some goat cheese," Katniss adds smiling up at me.

"Thank you Prim!" I exclaim. "We'll have a feast," I continue. Fresh bread and cheese, I haven't had something so gourmet in a while.

I rip the bread, as Katniss spreads the thick and creamy cheese over the pieces, topping them with mint leaves. This is going to be delicious.

We sit in silence for a bit enjoying our treat. I sneak a glance at her, she's looking off in the distance chewing a big bite of bread she just took. I suddenly am frightened for her, knowing the twenty slips of paper with her name on them in the reaping bowl could take her away from me. I say the words before I can stop myself, "We could do it you know, take off, live in the woods. It's what we do anyway."

Knowing she would never leave Prim I add, "If we didn't have so many kids." They aren't actually our kids, but they might as well be. Their lives depend on ours, on our supply of food and necessities.

Katniss looks thoughtfully into the distance. "I'm never having kids," she states matter-of-factly. I know her fear of having children, of having to worry about someone else she loves getting taken away and put in the Games. Its part of the reason she never wants to get married. That has bothered me for a while. If she never wants a relationship, how am I supposed to tell her I love her? How am I supposed to be with her?

"I might," I suggest, "if I didn't live here." I want to open the conversation to other possibilities, to what our life and companionship might be like if we didn't live in the repression of the capitals claws.

"But you do live here," she reminds me sternly. That's what I expected; Katniss never wastes time or energy on things that are fantasy. We live here so she doesn't see the point in talking about what it would be like if we didn't. She only sees it as a way to make people more depressed with our situation. Still though, it frustrates me that she can't pretend a little, even for today, to take his mind off the burden of coming events.

"I know but if we didn't," I snap back at her a little more sharply than I intended. I grab a piece of grass, when she looks at me. I focus on the blade between my fingers as she examines me. I look up at her when her eyes don't leave my face; they are looking at me with a worried expression. I realize she's remembering my 42 entries of mine in the reaping bowl. Wanting to lighten the situation, I grab a berry and put on my best capitol accent, "Oh! Happy Hunger Games," I drawl. As I toss the berry, it sprawls through the air in the direction of her mouth. I continue, "and may the odds-"

She parts her perfect lips, grinning, and catches the berry. "Be ever in your favor," her voice rings with the same accent I had used. She chews the berry as her eyes sparkle at me. The games aren't something to be happy about, but we can either joke about it or be scared about it. We choose to make fun of it, refusing for fear to dictate our lives.

We sit close to each other as we lay back, our bellies full from the small feast we had just savored. I start to think, which is the worst thing you could possibly do on a day like today. I recall all the times Katniss has been entered into the reaping bowl, panic starts to seep in my mind. What if she is picked and is sent off to be slaughtered before I tell her I love her? What if I never get to kiss her, touch her waist? What if I never get to see her smile again or hear her musical laughter and feel it heat my blood?

I feel myself rising, the need for her to know my true feelings driving me up. I'm ready to do this, ready to declare my soul to her. But she interprets my rising as an indicator that its time to hunt. She follows me up onto her feet and speaks before I can start, "So do you want to go check the snares first or shoot some stuff?"

I look at her for a moment longer, trying to get the words to form on my tongue. I love you, I think. I love you. Just say it, I scream at myself. Unable to communicate my intent, I reply, "Let's go check the snares." I follow behind her, furious with myself for the missed opportunity. Well I still have hours before the reaping, I'm pretty sure I can find a way to say it by then.

-

We are leaving the hob, as I curse myself for not having found the opportunity to express to Katniss my love yet. We head back to our homes as I try to find the right way to start this declaration. I can't find a way to begin and as we reach the stop in the road where we must go separate ways, I turn to her, trying to release the words that seem to be stuck in the back of my throat.

Katniss looks up at me, worry present in her gaze. All focus on telling her my love dissipates when our eyes hold. She reaches out and squeezes my hand gently. "See you in a bit," she says to me, communicating concern for me in her eyes.

She turns her back to me and I choke out, "Wear something pretty."

As I make my way to my house I want to bang my head against a rock. Wear something pretty? I'm pathetic. I open the front door still dissecting her gestures that day as I stride through the living room. I set all the items I was able to get at the Hob and go up to my mother who is straightening Vick's collar on his dress shirt.

She smoothes the creases on the arms and then stands and gives me a hug. "I've got some of your father's clothes on your bed. Why don't you go wash-up," she suggests. I nod not responding and make my way to the bathroom and take a bucket bath. I look to the time and take in a sharp breath. In just an hour I'll either be headed to the capitol or home with my family. I dread the future as I step into my room and pull on my father's shirt.

-

I'm standing in a roped off section crowded with boys of my age group. The Justice Building, where punishment is enacted, towers before me. I look across the path separating boys and girls. I search for the section a few rows ahead of me that contain the girls two years younger than I. I find Katniss, she looks absolutely gorgeous, her face and hair freshly washed, a soft blue dress flows down her body, clinging at her waist, accentuating her great figure. Her hair has been expertly and intricately braided on top of her head. Even though I'm deathly afraid for her, my body still responds to the sight of her.

Sensing my gaze, she turns to me and gives me a small, reassuring smile.

"Are you okay?" I mouth to her.

She nods her head yes. I look at her and am overtaken by grief, I don't know if I'll be able to go on if she's taken. I'll never be able to smile again. I'll never feel true joy or happiness. I look at her face memorizing every plane of her features, committing it to memory just in case. 'No!' I chastise myself. I refuse for that to happen. My Catnip will not get picked.

I notice her face darken as she understands the chance of my getting picked as well. But before I can assure her that that won't happen Effie Trinket calls attention to the stage before us. She greets us with her usually announcement, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

She looks absolutely ridiculous in her neon colored clothes, hair and makeup. Her squeaky voice makes me flinch. She blathers on about the capitol for a bit. I block out her annoying voice and look at Katniss, who is looking for her sister Prim in the rows ahead of her. I remember that this is the first year that Prim will be eligible for the reaping and am overcame by self-disgust of not having came to this conclusion earlier. How worried she must have been this morning, and all I had done was talk about running away and how great life would be if we didn't live like we do.

I turn my attention back to Effie when she squeaks, "As usual ladies first." I tense as she makes her way to the girls reaping bowl. I hear my blood thrumming through my body as she swirls her had around the bowl, teasingly searching for a slip of paper to grasp. Clasping one she flicks her wrist up and makes her way back to the microphone. She starts the unfold it, smiling, happily ready to force a child to there deaths and ruin a families lives forever.

She finishes smoothing out the paper, and glances at the audience, trying to add more drama by letting the suspense rise. I hold my breath looking at the ground. My muscles are rigid waiting for the name to ring through the square. 'Not Katniss, not Katniss," I chant in my mind, hoping if I say it enough times it will be true.

Effie's shrill voice calls out a name. My chanting had worked it wasn't Katniss. But this realization doesn't bring relief. My blood runs cold when the name echoes around me, reverberates around in my head. I look to Katniss, and see her being held up by a girl next to her, her legs had given out. Her eyes were glued to a small girl tucking in her shirt.

My mind scrambled franticly as Primrose Everdeen made her way toward the stage, responding to Effie's call.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

No, no, no, no. This isn't happening, I heard it wrong. It was just my imagination, my mind playing tricks on me. I try to convince myself that what I'm seeing isn't real, that I don't see Katniss charge her way through the crowd that Prim's small body isn't approaching the stairs leading to the stage.

I must have voiced my distress because the boys around me start to back away. Maybe they do this because they know of Katniss and mine's relationship. My blood in pulsating through my limbs, my body racked with tremors. But I can't move; I'm too shocked to command my legs.

I see the panic in Katniss's eyes now. "Prim! Prim!" she shouts desperately. She darts to her sister, sweeping her and pushing Prim behind her back, trying to make her disappear. "I volunteer," she says breathlessly. "I volunteer!" her voice carries loudly when she repeats herself. Her voice is sure and gaze unwavering.

The boys surrounding me widen their girth. I'm visibly shaking now, my hands clench so tightly I feel blood seep up from under my nails, piercing my skin. I'm ready to kill, ready to destroy the capitol and its grotesque occupants, eliminate its horrific games. They think they can take my Katniss away from me; I'd like to see them try. I make my way toward the stage not processing my actions, just letting the rage dictate my actions. I take my first step, only knowing that I have to take Katniss away from here, keep her safe and away from the capitol's clutches.

"Noooooo! Katniss, Noooooo!" Prim screeches holding on to Katniss's leg.

"Let go," Katniss says forcefully as she looks down at Prim. I can see she's trying to put on an emotionless face, stack up a brick wall of indifference. Prim's screams threat to break her composure though. As I see Katniss's struggle against Prim's grip I realize there's nothing I can do. I can't take her away; they will kill us before we even take two steps to escape. All I can do is pry Prim off of her.

I stride forward quickly and encircle Prim's waist. I pull on her as she hysterically tries to keep a hold of her sister, but her feeble clutch is too weak. Her screeching pierces my ears. I welcome it; her shrieking shreds my ear drums, focusing my attention to this pain instead of the misery in my heart.

"Up you go Catnip," I say as lightly as I can. I force my voice to stay steady, she has to look strong. She can't be seen as weak. Her eyes meets mine for a fleeting moment, shock still shining from her gaze, she hasn't fully comprehended what has happened.

As she wipes her face of all feeling, she turns her back to me and lifts her foot to the mount the first step. I head to the Katniss's mother, handing Prim over to her. Prim clamps onto her mother's leg burying her sobs into her hip. I want to stay with her but that's not allowed, I have to get back to my section. I return to my spot and see that I still have a very wide space left for me.

"-District 12's very first volunteer," I catch Effie say as she stands next to Katniss. Katniss is doing a very good job. Her face is devoid of emotion, she almost looks bored.

"What's your name dear?" Effie asks. She's bristling with the excitement that has taken place. She has finally gotten some liveliness out of her usually deadened district. I want to rip her wig off and gag her with it.

"Katniss Everdeen," Katniss responds. Her voice is steady, but I can hear the small tremor in it.

"Well I'd bet my buttons that was your sister, wasn't it? Don't want to give her all the glory I bet!" Effie concludes.

'No she doesn't want her to die!' my thoughts scream. I can't fathom how she can be so oblivious to Katniss's sacrifice, so unfeeling. Rage coils inside of me, as Effie quickly makes her way to the boy's reaping bowl, snatches a small slip, and then waltzes her way back to the microphone. Be me, call me, I want to go to the capitol. I want to destroy every sparkly building there, kill President Snow with my own hands. He thinks he can take my Katniss. I'll sing praises when I feel my knife pierce his heart.

"Peeta Mellark!" Effie trills and searches the crowd for her next victim.

Noooo I howl inwardly. It has to be me; I have to be the one who's thrust into the arena by Katniss's side. I need to protect her, keep her alive, and secure her victory and safe return home. I feel the words well up in my mouth; Peeta will not be the one who shares Katniss's last few days. I will. The plea that will switch Peeta's and mine position makes its way to my lips. There's no regret, no uncertainty. I know I'll die when I take the place of the baker boy, but I'd live a life worse than death if Katniss were to leave this world, leave me.

"I-" I begin to let loose, but my words are cut short by the visual of Prim sobbing into her mother's leg. I see it happening already, Katniss's mother is fading quickly, leaving reality, escaping back into her shell of silence. Swallowing my words I slump back between two of my class mates in defeat. If I volunteered Katniss would hate me for the rest of her existence. She would spit words of betrayal at me, curse our friendship. The only feelings I would get from her would be that of pure disgust and abandonment. I can't volunteer, no matter how much I want to. We had made a deal, I had promised her...

_"Promise me that if I get taken, you will take care of them," Katniss had pleaded years ago. "Promise me that if I get reaped you won't let them starve. Promise me!" Her eyes had held such urgency that I had just stood there, shocked by her sudden intensity. "Gal, please," she had begged, taking my silence as uncertainty, "I promise I'll keep yours safe and alive if you should be taken too."_

Trying to find a way to reassure her, I had blinked my eyes rapidly, searching for a response. "Of course I will take care of your family," I had forced out, surprised that I had sounded so at ease; my tone had sent the impression that needing to even ask was offensive. "But you aren't going to be chosen," I had reminded her, refusing to accept the possibility.

How ironic that our pact that had made me feel secure, now made me feel completely defenseless.

Only a couple of seconds have passed as the recollection of this promise floods my body with failure. I feel like there's a hollow place in my heart. It's as if someone has reached through my chest and ripped out the life out in me. I feel nothing, my mind and body numb. As I sway on my feet, I look at the cameras filming the reaping, their movements mechanic. That's what I was, what I would become, a machine. When Katniss was delivered to the capitol and murdered by another child, I would take on a life similar to this camera. I would do the things I am supposed to, hunt, gather, provide, work, and learn. But I wouldn't think, I wouldn't feel. I'd just do what I must mindlessly.

I catch a glimpse of a future me. My eyes are dead; skin ashen, gray streaks spot my hair. I slump in a rocking chair positioned in the corner of a room, most likely the one of my future house, and stare blankly at the opposite wall. The man is a husk of his former self; all that's left is a drone.

So that's what I had to look forward to, a meaningless, lonely life. Stuck in the past when a beautiful, strong young woman was still hunting with me, laughing with me, and living with me. I wonder if I'll end up taking my own life. I hadn't understood how some people could follow something like that through. I had thought of it as a cowardly escape. I see its appeal now however.

I just want to cease, to not feel the deep ache in the core of my being. The thought of no longer having a brain to constantly pester me with nightmares, not having memories to remind me of pain, not looking to the future with terror and uncertainty, it sounds wonderful.

I'll have to wait until Posy marries and can live without my support. I feel bad for leaving Hazelle but she'll be able to get by with her small laundry business. Which way should I do it? Should I hang myself? Cut my wrist? Or maybe I should have my own little rebellion and be killed by a firing squad as punishment. Yeah that sounds like a noble way to go. I start to settle my plans, thinking of which day would be best to-to- Give up?

What am I thinking?! How can I even consider ending my life, when Katniss is going to have hers ripped away! She would probably give anything to be where I am, my fate securely in my own hands, not in the clutches of the capitol. And here I stand, debating what way and form would be best to commit suicide.

Self loathing seeps through my body. Disgust brings bile up my throat. You are a piece of s**t, I scold myself. No, your lower than a piece of s**t, your worse than the capitol scum!

As the shame of my selfishness brings me back to my surroundings I notice that the square has emptied. Everyone must have left while I had been lost in my thoughts, my repulsive thoughts.

I decide I'm not going to give up. I expect Katniss to fight, so I will too. I take a deep breath to clear my mind, and search for my next course of action. The tributes, after being reaped, get to say good-bye to their loved ones I recall. Latching on to this strand of sense I decide to include myself in this category; I head toward the side of the Justice Building. Going through the doors that are propped open I see two lines, each one in front of a door. I make my way to what I'm guessing is the line to Katniss's room. I make this assumption based upon that the only people waiting in it are Madge, a girl Katniss has spoken of a few times, and the baker. It is a pretty easy distinction from the huge line formed to my left. This line has sniffling girls and boys with frowns painted on their faces. I'm sure saddened girls would not be outside my Katniss's door, I expect girls rejoicing would be though. I can imagine what they probably thought when she volunteered in place of her sister. They probably sent out a silent thanks to the universe for disposing of the one girl that no one could hold a candle to. They probably felt elation that this girl, whose beauty, strength, and grace had enchanted every boy in all of District 12, was going to be eliminated from their competition.

That might be the case for the others, the other boys; they would be able to side step Katniss's death without much emotion. But not me, it might possibly destroy me. Even if Katniss were to die, no one else would ever, ever, come close to her. No other girl would ever be able to fill my stomach with butterflies, to cause me to flush even at her approach, to bring out a part of me know one else can, a happy and care free piece of me that is unseen to everyone but Katniss. No other girl could send my blood racing from her smile, or fill me with such irritation at her stubbornness. No other girl could make me want to become better, to try harder each day to surpass the man I was the day before. No other girl would do this for me, be this for me. No other girl but my Katniss.

I rest my eyes on the door before me, sorting through what was most important to tell Katniss before she left. What do you tell the one you love when you might never see them again? How do you tell them that they are your reason for living? I have no idea. I decide upon preparing her, making sure she hasn't given up. Hopefully I will be able to kindle her determination into a roaring blaze of drive and certainty that she will return home to me. I replace my despairing notions of her death with a strong conviction that my Katniss won't die in that arena. She'll die an old grandmother by my side, having lived a fulfilling and happy life. I've had my time of grief. I'm not going to let one more thought other than pure confidence in Katniss's abilities to win these games cross my mind.

I'll make sure to tell her I will take care of her family as well. I can't have her worrying about them while she's fighting for her life in the arena. All her focus has to be there not split between her situation and the state of her mother and sister back home.

I reach the front of the line when I realize I have to tell Katniss I love her also. A lot of the victors come out of the crazed imaginings of the capitol and the games looking like mutts. Once they win their crown, stylists and surgeons have a hay day on them and the horror of the games permanently damages them. Some of the victors actually go insane. If I don't tell her I love her now, I could be facing a Katniss that has completely transformed when I see her next. I'm not even nervous about it anymore. Humph, I think darkly, it takes the threat of her life to cause you to actually grow a pair and say what you've wanted to for all these years.

A peace keeper appears in front of me, motioning me through the door and pointing me towards another entrance a few yards down the hall. Practically sprinting to it, I rip the door open. There she is standing before me, eyes watery from the farewells she had just given. I open my arms to her and she steps into my embrace without a second thought. Her face buries into the crook of my neck as I rub my thumb in small soothing circles onto her back. One sob escapes her lips as I pull back, urgent to get across enough information as I possibly can in the allotted time.

"You're stronger than they are. I know you are. Get to a bow," I'm bending down so I'm eye level with her as I say this. My hand grasps the back of her neck, holding her stare to mine. She looks at me dazedly, and sways off balance. I tighten my hold to steady her.

"The may not have a bo-" she begins.

"They will if you show them how good you are. Okay, you know how to hunt," I say. She has to agree with me, has to build some confidence up in her strategy before she is faced with more cameras and pestering.

"Animals," she mumbles, shaking her head slightly as she tries to refute my reasoning.

Dammit! She can't be thinking this way! I gaze at her ready to argue that they can't be seen as people, the only way is to see the other tributes as threats, competitors. But her frightened expression diminishes my growing anger. "There's no difference Katniss," I say this softly, gently. I see my words hit their mark when comprehension shadows her face. I can see her realization that if she were able to detach herself, see the other person as a danger to her own life, she could easily kill them. It would be just like hunting in our woods outside District 12. But she still seems to want to bring up all the negatives, to unsure and scared to let in any hope.

"There are twenty-four of us Gale, and only one comes out," she states. She lets her reply hang like an explanation, a warning. She lets the other meaning accompany the fact, 'I don't stand a chance. I'm already dead.'

No, she has to at least try. I give the back of her neck a small squeeze as I say, "Yeah and its going to be you." I'm sure of it now. If anyone in District 12 could win, it would be Katniss. She'll fight and win and then come home to me.

The door opens behind me as a set of peacekeepers come in, signaling my time is up. Wait, I just got in here. I haven't even said half of the things I have planned. And most importantly I haven't told her I love her. I wanted to express my feelings with soft caresses and warm embraces, now I'll have to rush it if I want to get it out at all.

The peacekeepers grab my arms as they try to drag me out the door. Katniss grabs my hand, and before I can profess my feelings she frantically interrupts, "Take care of them Gale! Whatever you do don't let them starve!" Her voice is so desperate so full of fear for her family that I decide to consul her before declaring my passions.

"You know I will," I say back firmly, so my voice will communicate to her the truth of my promise. I've been pulled out of the room by now, only seconds remain.

I lock my gaze onto Katniss's, "Just remember-" my plea is cut off by the slam of the door, separating my love from me. Fighting to reach her I howl, "I have to tell her one more thing." I just need a few more seconds; they have to allow me this. "Please!"

"Your time is up," one of the peacekeepers who is hauling me toward the exit replies without feeling. I thrash and push up against them, every fiber of my being screaming to get back to Katniss and finish what I had started. But as more and more peacekeepers surround me and force me to exit of the building, their sheer numbers overcome me.

They shove the doors open and practically fling me onto the narrow street below. I land on my hands and knees, bones jarring from catching my fall. For a moment I just stay there, breathing heavily, not being able to absorb what had just taken place. Then realization trickles in and as a small tear escapes my shut eyes, slowly sliding down my cheek, I go to the one place I can release my murderous rage and soul crushing ache.

I run to the woods.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Katniss and I sit together, at our usual spot in the woods. My arm rests lightly around her shoulder. She looks to me and smiles lazily, her nose pink at the tip, reacting to the crisp cool air. Unexpectedly she grabs fist fulls of my shirt as she lies back, dragging me with her. My body presses into hers, one hand at her waist while the other curls to push against the small of her back, fusing our bodies together until every inch of me covers every inch of her.

"Gale," she gasps, as my hands run up and down her side, circling her hip.

They way she says my name with so much desperate ache, causes blood to rush to my lower body, pooling in the middle of my core, pulsating with heat and desire. Oh, how I've waited so long for her to say my name like that. How long I've wanted to lie atop her and just explore her with my hands, memorize her curves. Moans escape her lips as she kisses along my jaw, giving little nibbles. Our mouths meet, opening to each other, surrendering to the electrified currents buzzing from our touches. I lightly stroke her; she gasps into my mouth and pulls on my bottom lip with her teeth, as a delighted squeal escapes her.

Knowing I'm doing this to her, making her flush with desire, desire for me, hearing my name gasped with tones and pleas of pleasure, it sends tingles through my whole body. Every muscle in me is strumming with yearning. I deepen the kiss and then pull my tongue out of her mouth, but I don't stop. I continue down her chin to her neck, licking, sucking, and biting my way. Her hands massage my hair, pulling it every few seconds as she breaths in shaky heady breaths. Yes, yes, yes, I chant, my Katniss, no one else's.

I feel her tense beneath me, wondering if I had done something wrong I look up to her face. Her eyes are looking over my shoulder, full of panic. I glance to where she watches; wondering what could possibly interrupt this cocoon of bliss. My hands dig into her skin when I see Effie Trinket over us waving a slip of paper tauntingly in Katniss's face. Perplexed I try to understand why Effie would be outside the fences of District 12. Why she would be leaning over us with a slip of paper in her hand. Primrose Everdeen flashes into sight as she flicks her hand to the side again brushing Katniss's face with the slip.

Suddenly Effie is climbing into a train with Prim at her side. I faintly realize I'm standing. What's going on? I don't understand. Confusion makes me frantic; I'm searching for a practical explanation. Then confusion warps to realization as Katniss yells, "I volunteer!"

Effie appraises her, shakes her head in approval and beckons her to the train, door now open, expecting occupants. I scream for Katniss's attention. I have to tell her I love her before she leaves. But my screams are gurgled to low groans. Puzzled I try yelling to her again, I gag as a piece of cloth tied tightly into my mouth, causes my shrieks choke back down my throat.

I try to run to her, but my legs jerk feebly, unable to move. Panicked I look down and see they are submerged in cement, keeping me constrained to this spot.

As Katniss boards the train she turns to me and before the door shuts, closing her away from me forever, she cocks her head and asks, "Remember what?" The train lurches forward as I watch desperately, good-byes on my lips.

Suddenly my body is lurched forward; my vision is reduced to blurs as I speed ahead. My stomach turns from motion sickness, but before I get sick, I slam hard into a chair. Straps snake around my wrists, torso, shins, and feet instantly, securing me, confining me. I thrash uselessly against their restraint. Looking for a threat I throw my head up. I'm in a small room, gray and dull concrete encompasses me. It reeks of death and antiseptic.

I see Katniss on s shiny, silver, metal table restrained just as I am, keeping her absolutely still, but that doesn't hide the garbled screams she lets loose. A light hangs above her, lighting her naked body with a dull yellow tint. I see her muscles straining trying to free herself, but it is no use. She chokes from the cloth between her teeth. She's being gagged just as I had been earlier. Her eyes are so bright with agony I can almost feel the knives that pierce her myself.

Surrounding her are people. Well I think they are people or at least they used to be.

They look like mutts, are mutts. They are naked except for the small cloth that covers their private areas, their skins sag on their body and scans from shades of yellow to blue. But the colors look grotesque with their grayish, deadened tint. Their shoulders hunch and backs protrude causing their bones to stick out sickeningly. Their heads are shaved; you can see the stubble of hair growing back in. And their faces, oh my gosh their faces. Looking at them is horrific. Their eyes are crazed, blood lust pulsing in them. But unlike their skin they all hold the same color. Each one has a stare that is endless and black. It's like the pupils had expanded to cover their whole eye, and when I look into them I feel a glacial cold, ice trails down my spine. Scars cover their faces, deep and jagged. They carve patterns, swirls and flourishes painted with gouges that continue all over their bodies. Worst of all, though, is their lips. They are so plumped with filler that they split and blood leakes down their chin. They will occasionally flick out sharp pointed tongues to catch the escaping blood.

Their horridness entraps me; I can't look away from their grotesque forms. They smile disgustingly as they work on Katniss. Her chocked agony soon calls my gaze, and I thrash more urgently against my restraints.

God help her, I plea. I've never really believed in God. I always thought that if he was supposed to be our father and all and a supreme being, than why does he let his children live in agony below him? Be abused and taken advantage of. If he's all powerful, why won't he protect us from the tyranny of the capitol? But now I pray, I pray and pray and pray. If there is a God, he has to make this stop. How can he not make this stop?

The deformed humans lean over Katniss while licking their bleeding mouths as they maliciously cut, tare, and slice her. Pools of blood form under the table. They are slicing similar designs into her body as they have done to themselves, trying to mold her to the capitol's taste. Bile rises in my throat as one of the mutts drags a serrated blade over Katniss's breasts, circling the peak with jagged gouges. She arches her back from the table, body frantically looking for an escape.

I've been yelling, screaming, trying to take their attention away from her. But they relentlessly continue their procedure, licking the blades that drip with Katniss's blood, lakes of deep crimson. It seems like I am there, watching this torture for lifetimes, unable to move, unable to even make a sound. My voice has been reduced to a hoarse whisper, my screams barely audible.

I end up just staring at the ground, the tearing of flesh and cackles of delight from the mutts invade my mind, fill my head, until there's nothing left but the sound of their affliction, a tear of the skin, a distorted laugh of the beasts, a muddled scream. I never think it will end. Shutting my eyes I try to find some sanity, anything but these horrible noises.

It stops abruptly. But I just sit there; eyelids still screwed shut, waiting for the torture to begin again. When it doesn't I slowly open my lids, they ache from being squeezed so tightly shut. I feel a presence before me. I look up hoping the scenery has changed, and as I had wished it has. But my stomach still dips, vomit threatening to come up.

Katniss stands before me, but doesn't. She has the same curves, the same, hair, the structure of her familiar, but that's where it stops. Her skin is a sickly green tint; her beautiful glossed hair is hacked to uneven fuzz on her head. The human mutts' torture had left similar designs of gashes in her skin. Her shoulders are already starting to hunch forward and her hip bones jut too sharply. Her lips, huge are already stretching from the pressure of the filler. But worst of all, when I look into her eyes all I'm welcomed with is endless black chasms. No life or recognition glimmers in them. She just stands there examining me, as an artist would an empty canvas. My body still imprisoned tenses as she gives me a nauseating smile. Pulling a knife from behind her back she slowly starts to brush designs over my skin with the blade.

I wake screeching, thrashing, drenched in sweat. I feel hot tears streaming down my cheeks, as I shake, trembling the bed. It had seemed so real, the sting of the blade, the emptiness in Katniss's gaze. I stare wide eyed at the ceiling, breathing too loudly, too thickly. I think my heart will beat out of my chest.

I see a flicker in the corner of my vision, and let loose a guttural howl. I sound like a wild animal, a capitol mutt. Maybe the blades Katniss had drug across my body also punctured my spirit, opening it, letting the humanity seep out of it with the blood, and replacing it with malicious darkness. I don't care; whoever is here to hurt me next, will not live to try. I shoot out of my bed hands ready to crush the intruder's windpipe. When I have almost grasped the throat of my victim, I look up.

I will watch the life drain out of their eyes as I constrict my clutch around their air way. I will watch this person die as the mutts had watched Katniss writhe under their hands and as she had watched me do the same under hers. I'll smile as I see them slump, the strength to fight leaving their body as their last breath escapes them. I am a capitol mutt now; I might as well act like one.

I feel my hands seize my attacker's throat as I look up into her frightened and gray eyes. Only they aren't the eyes of a capitol slave, but of Hazelle, my mother. 


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

I still, my hands encircle my mother's throat, frozen. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the shock passing in waves through of bodies. I hiss and scurry away from her. The walls of my room quake, my vision blurs. I feel my knees weaken, straining to hold up my weight. I reach out for my bedpost and clamp onto it for dear life. It's my anchor; it keeps me grounded to the world, to reality. It hadn't been another capitol mutant who I had caught in my peripheral vision; it had been my mother, probably rushing to my aid when she heard my screams.

I stare at the floor, images of my dream flashing in my mind. But the most prominent is the look my mother had when my hands clasped her neck, when my savage eyes had met hers.

"Gale?" my mother asks, worry and fear making her voice shaky.

I look up at her, self disgust at what I had done, what I had thought, well up inside me. The dream, Katniss's cries, her deadened eyes, her blade tracing my body, my dark hands against my mother's pale throat, it feels like I'm on fire and being frozen at the same time. It's too much, people can't feel this much. I'm going to burst. The images beat against my facade, my calm and controlled mask.

When I meet Hazelle's gaze, I want to say I'm sorry, but I see the look on her face and knowing I'm the one who caused it collapses me. The dam that held all my emotion breaks and I double over, sobs racking my body.

I crouch there weeping, until my mother slowly makes her way to me and guides me to my bed. When I reach it I dive onto the covers and bury my face in my pillow, trying to suffocate my weakness and cowardice. I'm a disgrace. What my father would say if he saw me lying here, blubbering into my blankets. But I can't find enough strength in me to stop; the walls have already crumbled, I can only ride out the onslaught without losing too much self-respect. I curl up next to my mother as I did as a child as and let all my pent up distress free. I had held back for so many years, never letting anything get to me, never showing weakness. I was the man of the house, and men don't cry. Well I had been fibbing myself.

Everything gushes out with my tears, my pain over Katniss, my father, my mother, my family, the capitol, everything I have disguised behind my steely gaze. Hazelle stays beside me, rubbing my back softly, reassuringly and murmuring words of comfort. They are useless for my pride but they give my mind something to latch onto other than the tormenting images replaying behind my lids. I lie there, with my mother, until I have cried myself dry, I still sob but eyes can no longer squeeze out another drop. They prickle from overuse. Slowly I start to calm, sorrow being replaced with numbness.

When my body quits quaking with emotion my mother quietly asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

The sound of love and care in her voice threatens to send me over the edge again. How can I have such a selfless, dedicated mother and end up so horribly twisted? I look up to her, my eyesight reduced to two slights from my swollen lids.

I take in a wheezy breath, and cough. "No," I had meant to sound strong, but my voice whimpers and cracks at the end. Swallowing more shame, I turn from my mother, pulling a pillow to my chest and cradling it, curling around it. I felt so small, so young, so broken.

"Alright," my mother replies gently. She bends her face to mine to give me a quick kiss on the cheek and then leaves the room, allowing me to wallow in self loathing alone.

-

It took a few hours, but I was able to scrap together some dignity. As I stared through the cracks in the wood paneling of my room, I watch the sun lighten the sky. My eyes aren't throbbing anymore from the gallons of water I had drained earlier, but they do sting and feel heavy. Gradually, I sit up, inducing a head rush as I right myself. Pushing myself up off the bed, I stumble toward the bathroom.

I feel sore, really sore. My muscles scream at me to return to the cushion and comfort of my bed. I never knew crying could be so exhausting, but I hadn't been just crying. My tears were ten years old, pent up emotion that had forced its way through at the slightest show of weakness.

I splash some water on my face and blow my nose. It's clogged with mucus as is my throat, raw from the ordeal. I peek at my bed; the sheets calling me, begging me to let them encircle me with warmth. I can't though; I had school today, and a mandatory showing of the tribute parade at lunch. Anyways, I'm positive if I stayed in my room any longer I would end up like Katniss's mother. My mind would slowly deteriorate into madness and I would never be able to escape.

I look in the mirror. "Give yourself five seconds," I demand at my reflection. "You get five seconds, and then never again." I scowl. I don't even recognize the person in the mirror, with his red-rimmed eyes and swollen nose.

One.

I let think of Prim being called at the reaping. Her slight body trembling as she made her way to the stairs. How Katniss had volunteered, ripping her away from me forever. I take a shaky breath and let the memory engulf me, and then, with a huff, let it go.

Two.

I think of Katniss lying on the silver table, her body and self being transformed into a capitol mutant. I hear her choked screams. I see the pain glisten in her eyes. The memory overtakes me, makes me crave blood. But I just let the thought and rage flutter away.

Three.

I see Katniss's black eyes, ruthless and cruel. I shudder as her plumped lips curl up into a cruel grin. I look into her eyes and replace them with the ones I know are real that have sparks of determination yet pulses of tenderness. I forget about the mutant Katniss.

Four.

I watch as Katniss cuts my body, laps my blood from the blade. I clutch the edge of the sink. I can amost still feel the tip gliding across my skin, leaving trenches of red, angered flesh in its wake. Gasping I snuff out the memory.

Five.

My hands are around Hazelle's neck again. Realization of what I could have done freezing my advancement. Her eyes are so frightened, frightened of me. I double over again and let out one last sob releasing all of the heavy burdens on my back.

I look into the mirror and already I see more of myself in the face staring back at me. My mind feels empty now, my body hollow. The sensation is welcome. I stub my toe on my door as I exit and don't feel a thing, amazing. I'm almost giddy. Maybe on my way to insanity, I can't force myself to care. I wonder how long this will last. I hope forever.

I sit down at the breakfast table with my siblings and my mother. I pile my plate with food, ravenous. I will fill my hollowness with food; I'm happy to. I look up to see my mother eyeing me, looking worried.

I swallow my bite of bread, and give her a big smile.

-

On my way to school my numbness starts to wear off. Dang I knew it wouldn't last. Going to school is almost as worse as my nightmares. Everyone treats me like a wounded puppy, though most of it is just an act. They say how sorry they are for Katniss, how they knew how close we were. But they could never understand, Katniss and I had a bond that ran deeper than blood, deeper than friendship; she was mine and I was hers, forever.

Girls come up to me more frequently, saying they feel for me, but ultimately trying to take advantage of my grief. They try to nonchalantly ask if I would like to have some company to take my mind off of how my life is falling apart. They think I can't see through their facade. They think I can't see them for the fake, disgusting, and manipulating people they are. But after this morning, who am I to judge.

Before today I had scalded the girls, tried to humiliate them so none would return. But they kept coming, not caring about my cruelty. So instead of voicing my hate of their games, I just block them out, not acknowledging their presence at my side.

My classes drag by slowly; I keep thinking about what Katniss will look like at the tribute parade in just a few hours. Flashes of her tinted green body and dead eyed vision cloud my vision. My stomach heaves as I try to avert my attention to something else, anything else. But I can't, I can't see anything but her huge splitting lips snarling with pleasure as she slices my skin. I need an escape, a release. I can't blow up in the middle of a classroom, people are already treating me badly enough. Digging my nails into my arm, I sigh. The pain is there but it doesn't exactly feel hurtful. It feels like... liberation. My mind blanches as my whole focus centers on the nerves on fire in my arm. Blood is trickling down from where my nails pierce the flesh, and in the first time in days, I sag back in my seat and relax. 


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

I sit in the cafeteria, Chris, Jared, and some chick eat there food around me silently. They know not to speak to me right now, they can probably see my anxious tremors, my sweaty palms dragging across my pants. My lunch sits before me, untouched, anxiety making it look unappealing. I long for the numbness that I had had this morning. But wishing won't help me feel any better. I reach for a roll, wanting a distraction from the growing unease, no matter how nauseating it is. But when my hands appear quivering with distress, I retract them quickly returning them to my lap under the table, hoping no one saw. I grip my forearm where I had dug holes in my flesh throughout the day, looking for release from the torment. I hold back a sigh as I feel the worry dissipate and a sharp sting take its place.

I sit at one of the tables in the middle of the lunchroom, the best place to watch the games from, not too close but not too far away. A huge off white cloth is pegged to the wall in front of me, little tacks keeping it up. When it is time for the tributes to ride out on their chariots in front of the whole capitol, the projector in the back of the room will play it for all of District 12 and Panem to watch as well. Keeping my breath even, not letting my worry show, I say, "She'll probably just be dressed as a coal miner." My companions look up at me with startled gazes, surprised I was trying to make conversation in this state, especially about Katniss. I try not to allow my hope of their reassurance reach my eyes. I just need them to tell me she won't be a deformed capitol creature. That when I see her I'll still see the girl who hunts with me in the woods.

But before they can reply the projector flickers on and an image on the cloth forms. I hiss loudly when Cesar Flickerman, the capitols spokes person for the games, dominates the screen. The tributes will appear in minutes, I'll see if Katniss is my Catnip or the creature in my nightmares. His color theme is blue this year, thank god, the year before had been crimson. His hair, eyebrows, lips, and eyelids are all the same shade of indigo. He wears a suit of matching color that is twinkling with thousands of lights. His face has its same freakish shape. His skin pulled tight around his skull, trying to diminish the appearance of wrinkles and age. His lips are plumped abnormally, but not to the extent that his skin splits. His smile is so wide that it hurts my face to even image the strain of it. Lining his mouth are huge brilliant white teeth. There's no way any part of him can be real anymore, no one can look that freakish when they are born. The capitol people try so hard to look better, younger, skinnier, but in the end they just turn out alien.

I mentally prepare myself for Katniss's debut as Cesar goes through pleasantries and explanations of the tribute parade about to take place. All eyes are turned to the screen, so I wrap my arm quickly with a napkin, stopping the blood gushing from my self inflicted wound. The image changes from Cesar's face to the hundreds, maybe thousands of hectic people frantically cheering, ready to see who will be the victims of this years festivities.

We all watch silently as the many colors of the capitol decorum onslaught us. There's so many of them, their bizarre clothing and accessories making it seem as though we are viewing wild and rare animals. Men have on freakishly shaped hats that tower above their heads. It seems to me they would be very off balance from the extra weight that would add to their heads. One woman has a very large bow sticking out at an odd angle from her head. It is made of a see through film that gives off a range of colors. A tinted green piece falls down to cover her face and I involuntarily shudder, the sickly color reflects onto her skin bringing back the nightmare of Katniss's deformed body.

Once I think of her that way, I can't shake it. All I can see is her black eyes. I want to leave, to run to the forest, live in its protective branches. I want to disappear into its familiar vegetation and never leave.

Conflicting emotions onslaught my mind. I feel the urge to bolt, to escape from the option that my Katniss might not be there when they appear. But I also have an overwhelming need to see her face, to know that she's still alive and fighting. I feel like I'm being torn in two different directions, my mind pushing me to leave but my heart begging me to stay. I lean over the table and put my head in my hands as I try to work through my crazed thoughts.

"Hey man, you okay?" Jared places his hand on my shoulder, worry present in his tone. I flinch away from his touch like he had touched me with hot coals. I glance at him and the others, they are definitely frightened, I can see it in their expressions that stare at me widely. I need to be alone and to let all my despair drown me with no witnesses. If people are around me when I crumble I might do something heinous.

I shoot up out of my seat, causing Jared to choke back a shout, surprised at my sudden movement. Everyone at the table gives me confused looks, worrying for my sanity. I can't stand their gazes, they make me even more enraged. "I-"

"Here they come!" Cesar squeals with excitement, announcing the approach of the chariots. I pivot toward the screen instantly, unable to leave now knowing she is on her way to the stadium, to my sight. I have to see her, to feel her gray sliver eyes penetrate my soul at least one more time. I don't care about the questioning glances sent my way, all that matters is catching every image that flits across the canvas.

The tributes emerge in descending order, starting with District 1. My mind screams. I want to see her now! I can't wait through all of the others. But I must, and as I watch each pair materialize I get more and more panicked. I feel a bead of sweat roll down my back, my heart beating so loud it drowns out the sounds of the raging capitol crowd. My eyes water as I stare unblinkingly at the projection, not allowing my lids to close, not missing even a second of the airing. The other tributes continue coming, it seems the will keep pouring out, never ending. But as District 11 makes its way down toward the podium where President Snow sits, I am so overcome with fright my breath slips into hyperventilation. I can't seem to get oxygen to my brain, my short gasps not allowing the proper amount of air to reach my lungs. My vision clouds as my mind tries to shut-down, but I push back, not allowing myself to miss this.

I have to see her, I can die after.

The last few seconds before she appears seem like an eternity. All I hear are the pounding beats of my heart threatening to break out of my chest and quick intakes of breath. Maybe they won't come; maybe the mutts had poked and prodded to much at their bodies making them to deformed to be presented. Maybe while they mutilated her body Katniss's heart gave out. I run through the possible reasons why they wouldn't be emerging, each one ending with Katniss looking at me with black eyes. But I don't feel upset or angry. Instead the numbness I had had this morning returns. I feel it moving through my body, starting at my core and making its way outward, hollowing out my limbs and fingers. I watch the screen indifferently, like Katniss had watched me scream under hands while she hacked at me with her knife.

I have to leave, to find a secluded place, so when the ache and hurt did come no one would be there to witness it, to get hurt.

But a glow emanates from the tunnel entrance before I can tare my eyes away, like someone is holding a candle in the darkness of the tunnel. What's going on? I feel the hollowness starting to morph into insane rage already, they will pay for killing her, I will make sure that when I destroy them they know it was for her, my Katniss. But then she appears. And in that moment I wish I had ran, had slumped to the forest in cowardly defeat. I'd rather not have an ounce of dignity left in me than to see what I'm seeing. I go rigid, taking in the scene playing before me. There's the District 12 chariot, guided by two black horses, and there's Katniss following the others who had emerged before her. But instead of the usual coal miners outfit, flames dance around her, drawing all attention to her presence.

Katniss is on fire.


End file.
